


thorny skin, blooming heart

by hojichadust



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Flowers, Fluff, Lots of flowers, M/M, flowers and gardening hahA, tbh i loved writing this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hojichadust/pseuds/hojichadust
Summary: title: thorny skin, blooming heartpairing: kaisoorating: PGgenre: fluff, romance, highschool!auword count: 6.6ka/n: originally posted in the kaisooaufest!! this was such a pleasure to write and I met a whole bunch of amazing authors as a result what a blessing everyone go read the fics!!





	thorny skin, blooming heart

**Author's Note:**

> title: thorny skin, blooming heart  
> pairing: kaisoo  
> rating: PG  
> genre: fluff, romance, highschool!au  
> word count: 6.6k  
> a/n: originally posted in the kaisooaufest!! this was such a pleasure to write and I met a whole bunch of amazing authors as a result what a blessing everyone go read the fics!!

March was here, the last remnants of winter’s wonderland reduced to dirty brown puddles on the corners of the streets, the ground hardening over with a thick layer of frost-coated grass as people shivered in oversized scarfs and knee-high socks. The air was crisp and cool, the sky overcast with wispy grey clouds like smoke puffs huddling for warmth, not wanting to escape into the ozone just yet. The wind bit at students’ ears and chaffed their cheeks red. 

The clubroom was dusty, heavily unused. It wasn’t of much use, for a botanical club. Most club activities took place outdoors for obvious reasons. It might’ve been used for storage, but they had a shed outside for that, so it remained largely barren and empty. The table, large enough to seat six, only had four chairs loosely stationed around it, pulled out as if waiting for someone to occupy it. A bookshelf pushed against the wall, filled with volumes on horticulture barely ever cracked open; their pages had a musty smell to them now. The window was murky with an inch of dirt. 

Jongin was the first to arrive, not surprisingly. He only sat for five minutes before Joohyun arrived, arms loaded with her scarf and winter jacket, smiling at him politely. She arranged her belongings neatly in the chair to the left of his, and from her bag produced a packet of wet tissues, which she proceeded to wipe the table and chairs down with unhurriedly, quietly concentrated. Yerim, they soon discovered, was the last to arrive, strands of her newly-dyed blonde hair in disarray and backpack loaded with individually-wrapped Chinese hopia pasties—the flaky kind, filled with purple yam paste. Jongin slid two of them his way gladly. 

The small space heater in the corner of the room was turned on, and like this the three of them sat, chewing and shivering, the crinkle of plastic the only sound interrupting their snack-induced silence. Jongin swallowed half of his in one go and said what everyone was thinking. 

“This is pretty sad.”

“It is pretty bad, isn’t it?” Joohyun cleaned the crumbs from the corners of her mouth delicately with her thumb, tongue poking out to spot-check afterwards. “Well, most of our members were seniors. I guess it shouldn’t really come as a surprise.”

Yerim tied her hair up in a bun, then let it free again a moment later, fiddling as if worried for it. Jongin didn’t blame her. The school’s dress code was pretty strict about any hair colour lighter than a medium brown. 

“The club fair isn’t for another two weeks,” Joohyun said, and Yerim listened with a braided lock of her hair now caught anxiously between her fingertips. “Is it okay to keep doing activities like this? Clubs need a minimum of five members, right?”

“I don’t see the harm,” Jongin said. “Besides, we can’t put off the garden for another two weeks. Snow’s already melted. The perennials will need to be cut down.”

“Do you know what the club funds are like this year?”

“Zilch. We probably have ₩175,000 from last year’s fundraising, which’ll get us 7 six-packs of bulbs, at best. Did anyone do inventory before the break?”

“Probably need to re-up on fertilizer,” Joohyun said. “Should still be okay for mulch, though.”

“Good. So then for the next few days we should focus on cleaning up outside. Clearing off the top soil, get some pruning done. We can use last year’s annuals for the compost, and any leftover leaves from autumn, if they’re still there. Not the weeds, though—those will definitely come back to haunt us. We can regroup to discuss which flowers we want this year once the club fair’s passed and we’ve got more members to work with. Did you guys have any other questions?”

There was a pause. Yerim ate the last bite of her pastry, then covered her mouth with one hand while she cleaned the yam paste out from around her gums. When she was done, her hands shockingly didn’t end up back in her hair. 

“Yifan graduated last year,” Yerim said, smoothing her skirt. “We need a club president, don’t we? I think you’d be really good at it.”

Jongin blinked, surprised, but Joohyun looked over and calmly nodded her assent. 

“I agree. You’d be good as this club’s president,” Joohyun said. “Everyone can see how much you enjoy doing this. It’d be good. Would inspire the freshmen.”

“Are you sure?” Jongin said, still taken aback. 

“Of course. You know more about this stuff than anyone I’ve ever met. Seems fitting to me.”

Jongin coloured a little, his eyes lowering to the table top. “Thanks,” he said, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. 

 

The school gardens weren’t that big, and just a little over twelve years ago they’d been entirely non-existent. It was birthed as a meditative exercise, to help get students’ minds off of passing their college exams, and over the years it’s grown to look less like a haphazard tangle of tiny blooms and more into something really impressive.

The garden had two aspects: the courtyard, and the greenhouse. The courtyard served as both a shortcut to the nearby neighbouring middle school and as a general public space on weekends, so maintaining it was simple. The flowers that hugged and ornamented the winding paths were ones that came back every year, cranesbills and Siberian irises and shasta daisies, interlocked with tufts of blue oat grass in their pebbly patches. Jongin remembered how they all bloomed in sync last summer, how it had become a popular spot for students to take selfies and for teachers on break to relax. 

But the greenhouse—that was the real pride of Jongin’s work. Located on the roof of the school, the greenhouse was off-limits to the general student body, leaving access only for the club, the staff, and the occasional term in the year when the biology students had to learn about early medicinal herbs. That only took up a very small part of the greenhouse, though. The rest of it was a large cultivation of carefully sown seeds and potted plants, the largest pots nearly ten feet wide and three feet deep. The regulated temperature of the greenhouse allowed for seasonal flowers to be grown year-round: dahlias, tulips, daises, begonias, hyacinths, periwinkles, roses that grew in shades of apricot, golden delicious, pearl, salmon, deep pinks, blood reds. Bushels of lungwort crowded the stretch of dirt spanning the north and south walls, their flat silvery-green leaves cradling their soft violet flowers. An elaborate mosaic of moonflower vine crept to cover the back wall, leaves in the shape of hearts and creating a thick, lush atmosphere. Moss-wet rocks and patches of alpine wood fern swept up to surround a still-sprouting arrowwood bush, as if looking up to it, encouraging it to grow to its full potential. 

Maybe it wasn’t the most magnificent greenhouse, but it was Jongin’s, and he was happy to admit it to anyone who asked.

Stepping inside, he could see it hadn’t changed much since he’d last left it. Some of the plants would certainly need watering, but there was only a two-week gap between the school terms, anyway. The air was warm and sweet with the scent of healthy soil, lilac tubes, and the gasana strawberries, no bigger than his thumbnail, pouring over the rims of their wicker baskets and still white around their tops. They grew flowers in a leafy uniform bush overtop, eye-popping pink petals with yellow centres as vibrant as lemons. They’d been Yerim’s idea last year, and Jongin couldn’t say they weren’t cute-looking. 

The temperate climate of the greenhouse had Jongin shedding his warmer layers quickly enough. He rolled the sleeves of his uniform up to above his elbows, knowing he’d go nuts later trying to get the dirt streaks out of the white cotton. Then he grabbed his plastic Keroro watering can, and filled it up in the sink. He didn’t feel like braving the cold again to grab the hose from the shed. 

When Jongin gardened, everything became simple. Flowers did what you wanted them to. Blooms grew to their brightest and loveliest if you knew how to take care of them properly. This one needs more water. This one needs a more acidic soil. This one prefers a mix of sun and shade. Nothing wrong ever came of doing exactly what you were supposed to; all the hard work, all of the effort Jongin poured into the gardens sprouted back up in the form of fragrant irises and tall, healthy geraniums, and Jongin could spend whole seasons admiring the rewards of time well invested. 

The sound of knocking pulled Jongin out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Joohyun and Yerim standing in the doorway of the greenhouse, all bundled up with hats and scarves and mittens now. A gust of cold air floated in and raised goosebumps on Jongin’s flesh.

“We’re going to hagwon now, Jongin,” Joohyun said.

There wasn’t a clock anywhere inside of the greenhouse, but it was easy to see how dark it had already grown outside beyond all the glass. Jongin hadn’t even noticed the hours going by. The same little pang he got in his chest whenever he heard those words came back, but he pushed it down quickly, doing his best to smile. 

“Okay,” Jongin said, straightening up and pushing his fringe aside with the back of his arm. “Have fun.”

“Get home safe,” Yerim said, and the two of them waved goodbye before shutting the door behind them. 

Jongin watched their blurry shapes to make sure they could still get back in through the roof access, then turned back to the flowers. I have one more hour, Jongin thought, before the custodians start locking the place up. 

Then he went to fill his watering can again. 

 

Visitors came often enough. Or, at least, curious students came by often enough, anyway. Jongin essentially devoted every spare moment he had to tending the flowers in the greenhouse, lunch break included. Sometimes in the thick of summer, he’d forgo bringing food or lunch money and just eat all of the ripe vegetables he’d been raising till then—tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, string beans, whatever was ready for picking. 

In any case, being in the greenhouse so often meant that he was very much used to people coming in twos or threes and squishing their faces up to the glass, trying to get a better look inside. There was a sign posted near the door saying it was off-limits unless you had special access, and Jongin did his best not to hold eye contact while they looked at him quizzically from the outside. 

So when he let himself in a few days later, he’s surprised to find something he’s never seen before: another person on the inside. 

It was the first thing he noticed, because the person was standing towards the back of the greenhouse, bent over and studying his pots of fire-and-ice pinks. From what Jongin could see, it wasn’t anyone he recognized. He had his hands in his pockets, his school blazer tucked under one arm, and the curve of his bent elbows were enough to show the faint outline of muscle inside his white button-down. His black hair was cropped short, with a slightly longer tuft at the front, and although Jongin could only make out his profile the generous curve to his pouty lips was evident. 

For a few seconds Jongin just stood there frozen, too taken aback to move right away. The other student didn’t notice, so Jongin closed the door behind him and cleared his throat uncertainly. “Um, hello?”

The student looked up and turned to face him full-on. Round cheeks, big eyes. Definitely big lips. 

“Hello,” the guy said, smiling in a friendly way. 

“Hey,” Jongin said, lowering his bag awkwardly, trying to think of a way to be as polite as possible. “Listen, um, I was just wondering, did someone let you in? Cause the door’s usually locked…”

“Oh, yeah. Should probably tell you,” the student said. “Your lock’s broken.”

That put a stop to the rest of Jongin’s speech. “What?”

“Your lock. I think it got messed up over the winter. The temperatures fluctuated a lot, so all of the freezing and unfreezing probably wasn’t doing it any good. I pulled on the door before I realized, but, yeah. Might wanna get that fixed.”

Jongin gaped at him. He’d never noticed the lock wasn’t working. He always locked the place up when he was done, but it didn’t occur to him to pull on the door and double-check. How long has that damn thing been broken for?

“Anyways, sorry for letting myself in,” the student said, proffering his hand. “I’m Kyungsoo.”

“Jongin.” Jongin shook his hand dumbly. “You…pulled on it before you realized?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t break it, by any chance?”

Kyungsoo paused, and his eyes widened a little. “Um. You know what, I don’t even know. I don’t think so? It wasn’t that hard to open. I didn’t yank it or anything.”

Jongin sighed. “Well, in any case, this greenhouse is kind of off limits to the student body, so…”

“What about you?”

“I’m part of the botanical club. We get special access.”

“Ah, okay.” Kyungsoo smiled, soft and mellow. He wasn’t making any move to leave, and the more he just calmly looked back at Jongin the more it got him awkwardly sweating.

“Um,” Jongin cleared his throat. “Sorry, you have to—go.”

“Oh. You meant right now. Sorry. I’ll get out of your way.” He put his backpack down and began to put all of his clothes back on, his blazer, his sweater, winter coat, hat, gloves. His jacket was a thick, padded blue one, so that his frame swelled up even more, especially along the line of his broad shoulders. Jongin didn’t know how his coat hasn’t torn from the stress already.

“Are you a senior, by the way?” Kyungsoo asked, bringing Jongin out of his thoughts. 

“Yeah.”

“Funny, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before. Well, nice to meet you anyways, Jongin.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you, too,” Jongin said, and made a point of walking Kyungsoo to the door before shutting it firmly behind him. 

That was taxing. He needed a bigger sign. 

 

Unfortunately, if the club wanted to replace the lock on the greenhouse, it’d have to come straight out of club funds, which still consisted of mostly nothing. Jongin set up a jar in the club’s shed labelled New Lock, but he wasn’t really expecting anything of it. There was only so much money three high school students can donate. For now, they could only pretend the thing still locked properly and hope no one else took notice.

Which was why, when Jongin found Kyungsoo in the greenhouse again the next day, he wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or not.

He didn’t notice him right away, because this time Kyungsoo had sprawled himself out on the floor and made a pillow of his coat and backpack, his body mostly hidden behind the tables and clay pots. Jongin spotted his shoes first and did a double take, and walked over until he was standing over a sleepy-looking Kyungsoo, like he was either on the edge of drifting off or just waking up from a long nap.

Jongin stared at him. “You’re back.”

Kyungsoo sat up, his neck craning in order to give Jongin a mildly guilty smile. “Sorry,” he said. “The school heaters are bust. Well, you probably already know. Anyways, I kind of need somewhere to kick around for a few hours. Is it okay if I hide in here? It’s so warm.”

Jongin did his best not to huff a sigh in his face, somewhat annoyed. “If I did that for every person who begged to come here—”

“I know. Then you’d have to let everyone in. But I’m not planning on telling anyone you let me stay here. No access for the rest of the students, right? Don’t worry. No one will know.”

Jongin opened his mouth, ready to tell him no, forget it, I made myself clear, because this is my time and my garden and I don’t know you, what the fuck, but before he got the chance Kyungsoo beat him with one more word, something that surprised him.

“Your garden’s amazing, by the way.” Kyungsoo looked around, his eyes following the tendrils of moonflower creeping up the back wall. His face was relaxed, his dark eyes contemplative. “Like being in a forest, or in a field outdoors somewhere. I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s so different from all the apartments and traffic. It’s beautiful. It makes me want to lie here and just live out forever.”

The thing was, Jongin got it. He really did. Being in the garden was a sharp relief from the reality outside. Having to think about graduating high school, about preparing for entrance exams, about coming home to a household every night where his parents are too ashamed of themselves to look him in the eye anymore. But when Jongin studied, he studied; and when he gardened, he gardened. Things stopped being so complicated for a little while. 

He didn’t like it, but it seemed getting Kyungsoo to leave was going to be more effort than he felt like sparing, and Jongin didn’t really have it in him to be rude without good reason. And Kyungsoo appreciated his garden, which was always nice.

“You can’t touch anything,” Jongin said stiffly, already in a sour mood.

Kyungsoo’s face lit up, a sort of childish delight taking over his features as his cheeks condensed into squishy masses and his lips bent into a unique heart-shape smile. “Of course,” Kyungsoo said. 

Jongin expected him to go back to napping after that, but upon leaving him to his own devices Kyungsoo popped back up and started touring the greenhouse again, hands diligently folded behind his back. Jongin realized his allowing him in here had also been taken as permission to move around more freely, as if he were a member of the club himself. It made Jongin nervous beyond measure. 

Kyungsoo struck him as someone unpredictable, the kind of person who did whatever pleased them without much forethought. Nothing seemed to faze him much, either, considering he didn’t look very deterred by the irritated vibes Jongin was giving off. He was probably used to doing whatever he wanted, regardless of who was telling him that he couldn’t.

Eventually Kyungsoo sauntered over to where Jongin was working, curious. He leaned over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Jongin tried not to scowl, focused on the plants in front of him. “I’m cutting the dead wood away.”

“So that it won’t kill the rest of the plant?”

“Yeah.” 

“That’s smart.”

“You don’t have to pretend to be interested, you know,” Jongin said, glancing up.

“I am, though,” Kyungsoo said. He crouched down next to Jongin, placing his hands over his knees. “You’re cutting in the middle?” he asked, pointing.

“Yeah.”

“How come?”

“So that there’s more light and air circulation.”

“Can I try?”

That stupefied Jongin straight out of remembering to look pissed off. “What?”

“Can I try pruning it?”

“Um...”

“Don’t worry. I promise I’m not a total ditz,” Kyungsoo said, grinning. In the next moment he’s eased the pruners straight of Jongin’s grasp, before Jongin could even find an excuse to say no, leaving Jongin to gape at him. “Here?”

“Uh—yeah,” Jongin said dumbly. “The—all the shrivelled-looking stuff.”

He watched as Kyungsoo reached into the shrub and started clipping away, leaning in worriedly for fear that Kyungsoo would leave messy, ragged cuts. Thankfully, he wasn’t massacring the bush, to the point where he could’ve passed off as an actual gardener, if he wanted to.

“Ow, shit,” Kyungsoo winced, pulling his hand back out to inspect it. “I didn’t realize there were thorns.”

“Here,” Jongin said, relinquishing his long gloves.

Kyungsoo looked over. It’s written all over his face that he didn’t expect Jongin to lend him a hand—guess he was feeling those irritated vibes after all. “You’re gonna let me do it?”

“You’re not making it easy for me to say no,” Jongin said bluntly, but all he got in return was hearty laughter. 

He got over hating on Kyungsoo long enough to direct him on trimming properly, to make sure he didn’t hack the thing to death. For someone who had such a hard time grasping that Jongin wanted to be left alone, Kyungsoo was receptive and obedient, cut exactly where and how Jongin told him to without question. And when he was done with one, Kyungsoo moved on to the next one—without prompting, but without enough time for Jongin to really think about stopping him, either. So, he moved with him.

When all of the bushes were done, Kyungsoo looked around. “Is there anything else?”

“No,” Jongin said. Then, belatedly, he grew shocked at his own answer, and scanned the greenhouse, looking for anything Kyungsoo might’ve left behind. There wasn’t.

“No,” Jongin repeated, almost to himself.

“Well, that was fun.” Kyungsoo relinquished the clippers, then peeled the gloves off and folded them neatly before handing those over too. “I enjoyed that. Thanks.”

“Yeah, good job,” Jongin said briefly, now unsure as to how to talk to him. “So, shoo now. You’ve hung around here long enough.”

Kyungsoo grinned, and this time, instead of it being infuriating or annoying, it was blinding. Luckily, Jongin didn’t have to think about how to react, because Kyungsoo did as he asked, and started gathering his things. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kyungsoo said, not even trying to hide his intentions of returning anymore. For some reason, Jongin didn’t find it in him to refute him.

“Yeah,” Jongin said, and Kyungsoo saluted with two fingers before leaving and shutting the door behind him. 

Jongin crouched in front of the last bush Kyungsoo had trimmed, looking over his handiwork silently, his stomach curling with an unfamiliar sensation. He stayed like that for a little while, forgetting about getting anything else done, too perturbed to remember his familiar quiet. 

 

 _Miracle Gro,_ Jongin wrote. His school books were piled to one side of his desk, his lamp strategically twisted to illuminate his notepad. His hot water bottle was warming in the kitchen, for him to place at the foot of his bed later tonight. _Wood-handle shears for Yerim. Moss for ground-cover. Compression gloves, size_ …well, Jongin’s hands fit in a large pair, so maybe Kyungsoo would need a me— 

His pencil stopped moving on the paper, the muscles in his arm freezing. Jongin stared at the words he’s just written, already completed, already lifting off the paper to haunt him. He thought about scratching it off, but when his pencil hovered close, he hesitated. The thought ebbed away, leaving Jongin to bite his lip, unsure what to make of his inability to comply with his better senses.

In the end, compression gloves were left on the list, followed by an ellipsis in brackets, which he thought summed up how he felt about the whole thing pretty well.

 

 

Kyungsoo was the second to arrive in the greenhouse this time, which had never happened before, but when he did enter, he waltzed, lifting a hand in greeting with a totally guiltless smile on his face. Jongin merely spared him a dark glare before going back to his work.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Kyungsoo asked, folding his blazer neatly over a nearby chair and unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. His veins were incredibly prominent against his translucent skin, as if straining against the muscles that flexed with each movement he made. It was…weirdly fascinating. 

Jongin would’ve stared a bit more, if he didn’t feel like such a creep doing it. “Nothing that has to do with you.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Fine. Go grab that shake ’n feed and sprinkle it on these pots when I’m done with them.”

“Aw, that’s it?”

“Just do it, will you?”

Kyungsoo shut up after that. For a while he gave Jongin some peace and didn’t badger him with questions, merely watching as Jongin trimmed the roots of his bergenias and junipers free from where they were tangled around the drainage holes of their pots, before carefully sliding them out of their old homes and into their newer, bigger clay containers, until he was up to his elbows with dirt streaks. Without saying anything, Kyungsoo reached over and helped Jongin roll his sleeves further up his arms. Jongin tried not to stiffen at the contact, but he let Kyungsoo do it, suddenly rendered shy. 

“You know,” Kyungsoo said, after he was finished and leaned back again, “you’re in here for a pretty long time.”

“So are you,” Jongin shot back, glancing sideways at him. For some reason he couldn’t meet Kyungsoo’s gaze. “Where is it exactly that you’re supposed to be instead of bothering me here?”

“Nothing serious,” Kyungsoo said. “Just hagwon.”

That stopped Jongin, his hands halfway buried in the next pot of soil.

“My parents were pretty insistent on it,” Kyungsoo continued, oblivious. “Thing is, I don’t even know if I want to go to university yet. I don’t know what I’d do once I get there. And all the studying, all the late nights…I don’t know, it seems excessive. But my parents pop a blood vessel every time I bring it up. It’s all study hard, get into a good university. The usual, you know. So I just stopped going. I realized there was no convincing them, but I’ve got to do something in the meantime, while they think I’m at hagwon. So, here I am.”

Jongin slowly removed his hands from the pot, wiping off the clumps of dirt that stuck to the crevices of his palm. He licked his lips.

“Do you know,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “why I’m here?”

Kyungsoo looked over. 

“It’s because my parents can’t afford to send me to hagwon,” Jongin said, eyes down. “They run a restaurant together, but it’s not doing well. And all the money that they’ve been trying to save up, it went to sending my two older sisters to university. Now they can’t pay off the mortgage on our place. We’re in debt. They barely get by with enough to pay for my school uniform.”

Belatedly, Jongin realized his hands were shaking, and he clenched them until his knuckles turned white. “They would give anything to be able to send me to hagwon. Anything. They hate themselves for not being able to. They never look at me with anything but a sorry look on their faces. They’ve begged the neighbours, they’ve begged with the banks. And now you’re here, telling me that you just _skip_ hagwon, because you think it’s excessive?”

“No, I—” Kyungsoo looked lost, every line of his face filled with regret. “Jongin, I didn’t mean…”

“Do you even realize what you’re throwing away? Christ, just—leave, I don’t want to see you, I can’t stand the thought of you being here while you hide from your parents.”

The words were harsh, his tone seething, making Kyungsoo visibly shrink. He obeyed and stood up, head lowered, slowly donning his blazer and jacket again. For a moment it seemed that he would say something, as he brought the straps of his bag over his shoulders, but then he thought better of it and walked away. Jongin stared hard at the ground, listening to the sound of his retreating footsteps, before the door opened and closed behind him. 

Jongin closed his eyes, feeling the back of them sting. Fuck. 

 

 

There was a knock on the door behind him, causing Jongin to turn. To his surprise, he saw Joohyun standing in the doorway, her usual demure smile on her face as she waved at him.

“You didn’t have to knock,” Jongin said, as Joohyun stepped in. “You’re allowed in here too.”

“I know. I just didn’t want to startle you.” Joohyun looked, and saw the books from the clubroom’s shelf spread open on the table in front of him, next to his half-eaten kimbap. “Not going to the greenhouse today?”

“Already went,” Jongin lied. He tried his best to smile. “Got a lot done yesterday, so I finished pretty quickly today.”

Joohyun hummed. “Do you mind if I eat with you?”

“No. Go ahead.”

Jongin supposed he should feel lucky that someone as pretty as Joohyun was in their club. She was renowned for her looks in this neighbourhood; it had already been verified that people would lean out of their windows early in the morning in order to catch a glimpse of her as she was walking to school. With that kind of popularity, she could’ve easily fit in with any of the other clubs, ones that Jongin knew she was more familiar with—home economics, calligraphy, all that stuff. Jongin had honestly been surprised to see her return this year, but he’s glad, to say the least. She was the kind of person who spoke when it made sense to, and that suited Jongin well, who never knew how to make small talk anyway. 

Joohyun took the seat across from him, and began taking her lunch out, a container of rice and kimchi each and a thermos presumably filled with a soup of some sort. “You know,” Joohyun said, unscrewing the lid of her thermos, “I said hi to you in the hallway this morning, but you didn’t notice me.”

“Oh,” Jongin said, wracking his brains trying to remember running into her earlier, and coming up with nothing. “Shit. Sorry about that.”

“You looked totally out of it,” Joohyun said. She took up her spoon, and Jongin saw from the first bite that it was spicy chicken stew. “Something on your mind?”

Jongin paused for a moment, his pen leaving a blot of ink on his paper. If he was being honest, there were things trying to stay on his mind. He’d lost sleep thinking about how he’d lashed out yesterday, how Kyungsoo’s face had looked when he left, even when he’d tried so hard not to think of it. But he didn’t know how to explain all that, didn’t know how to respond. So, he answered her truthfully. 

“I don’t know,” he said.

Joohyun gave a small nod, to show she heard. She motioned as if to offer her food, but Jongin shook his head. Dakdoritang was an item on his parents’ menu. 

“You know,” Joohyun said. “Before I joined this club, I had the worst green thumb. Had no sense for this stuff at all. My mother used to call me a terror to her houseplants. I liked flowers, but after a while the other chores started to look more promising. Laundry, ironing, cooking. I thought nature just wasn’t my realm.”

“That’s surprising,” Jongin said. “You’re pretty handy at this now.”

“Well, it wasn’t without some help.” Joohyun sifted through her kimchi. “But it was nice, giving this another shot. I like doing this.”

Jongin glanced at her, curious. “I don’t mean to sound offensive. But, why the sudden sharing?”

“I was thinking about how you were too distracted to notice me waving this morning,” Joohyun said. “I realized I’ve never talked to you properly. Whenever I waved, you always waved back, so I just left it at that. Then this morning I was wondering if something happened with you, and I realized I wouldn’t really know unless I asked you.”

“I think that’s how it’s usually supposed to work.”

Joohyun smiled. “Maybe,” she said. “But I think it’d be nice to be know you well enough to be able to tell. So that whenever I see you and you don’t wave back, I’ll know if something’s up or if it’s just your regular thinking face. We’re in the same club, right?”

For a moment, Jongin actually felt moved enough to hug her. He looked up at her and saw that she was smiling kindly at him, and he put his pen down, chewing on the inside of his lower lip. 

“I met this person a couple of days ago,” he said, somewhat hushed. “He’s…I don’t know. He’s weird, or something. But I got mad at him.”

“For good reason?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. It…I mean, it was kind of personal. But he couldn’t have known that. So I don’t think it was right for me to get angry. And now I feel bad.” Jongin rubbed at his eyes, which were stinging again. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I’ve never seen you mad before, so it probably was within good reason. But, if you’re not sure,” Joohyun said, “it never hurts to try saying ‘hi’.”

 

 

In an odd way, Jongin actually sort of dreaded returning to the garden that evening. He’d grown too used to seeing Kyungsoo in there, even if it’s only been a few days, which was a problem in and of itself. But it only made things worse when Jongin discovered that what he was dreading was not seeing Kyungsoo there. Not that he would admit that, ever. But Kyungsoo seemed like such a relaxed, carefree person; it was hard coming to terms with the idea that Jongin might have been mean enough to drive someone like that away. 

Jongin chewed on his lower lip, half-heartedly pruning his willow bush. If he’s been at this school for three years and not seen Kyungsoo in the halls once, then the chances of seeing him anytime soon were not high. He supposed he could always ask around, see if anyone knew what class he was in, but the last thing Jongin wanted to do was call him out in school and draw the attention of his whole cla— 

The greenhouse door suddenly slammed open, causing Jongin to jump violently as he spun around. 

Kyungsoo was standing in the doorway, panting, his hair in incredible disarray and his face a painful-looking red from running against the winter air. He had something in his hands, and as he hesitantly walked further inside, Jongin got a good look and nearly choked with disbelief. 

“I know you said you didn’t want to see me,” Kyungsoo said, as Jongin’s mouth fell open stupidly. “But I felt really bad. Like, really awful. If I’d known I never would have misspoken like that. I just couldn’t leave things the way I did.” 

He looked like a dejected puppy, his eyes pitiful and his brows crumpled. He timidly held out his gift. “I got you these. To say I’m sorry. I, uh, I went online, and white tulips are supposed to mean asking for forgiveness. Or, at least, I think so, it was hard trying to make sure that they don’t mean I’m the one forgiving you for something.”

Jongin reached out and carefully took the pot of white tulips, their petals looking a little mussed from the wind but otherwise in perfect condition: soft, fragrant, their stems thick and strong. His voice was lost somewhere, miles away from here, probably being swept by those same winter breezes into the next town.

“I had to go a little ways to get those,” Kyungsoo said, as Jongin delicately ran his finger over one of the leaves. “I wanted to make sure they were still in the pot. I really wanted to show that I mean it, about being sorry, so I didn’t want to get you something that would wilt in two days. And it made sense, getting you the pot. Cause they can grow back, right? You can add it here, if you don’t have it already.”

Kyungsoo wiped his hands on his pants, somewhat nervously. “Also…I mean, if you’ll have me, I’d like to join the botanical club.”

That last bit had Jongin looking up in shock. Kyungsoo held his gaze, but Jongin could see from his expression how difficult it was for him, how hard he was trying, his lower lip set firm and his eyes imploring. He was everything from apologetic to hopeful to determined, altogether creating a vision that Jongin couldn’t help but melt in front of pathetically. 

Jongin tucked the pot of tulips a little closer to his chest, and, quiet with embarrassment, he cleared his throat and ventured a, “Hi.”

Kyungsoo blinked, but in the next moment his body was sagging with relief. “Right. Hi,” he said, running a hand through his hair with a weak smile.

Jongin smiled back. 

 

By the time the club fair rolled around, the amount of members were back to a reasonable number. Yerim convinced a couple of her friends to join, and they in turn invited their friends to join, and soon they had a good amount of first- and second-years, enough that the club wouldn’t be in any jeopardy once Jongin and Joohyun graduated. A lot of the first month was spent coaching the new members, a duty divided between the three original ones, but it went by smoothly; Yerim seemed to flourish in her teaching role, no doubt happy to show off her knowledge. 

Kyungsoo appeared unfailingly every day after school, with new gear and tools that he’d bought himself, which he was more than ready to donate to the club. He worked as hard at the club as he seemed to work at school, even did research of his own at home, which always surprised Jongin. He was friendly, a quick learner, and got on easily with everyone. Sometimes, every so often, he’d leave with the others and attend hagwon, which was also surprising, but Jongin quickly learned that there were ulterior motives to this. 

“You don’t want to study with me?” Kyungsoo gave him what Jongin figured were supposed to be puppy eyes, although regardless of the expression they had their intended effect. “I promise I don’t talk anywhere near as much when I’m studying. We can cover all the extra stuff I’ve been learning.”

“I doubt it. You’ll probably get side-tracked and spend twenty minutes talking about something useless instead,” Jongin grinned, bumping his shoulder.

“I never say anything useless, thank you very much.”

“That’s debatable. Your rant over Yura’s butt in ‘Female President’ probably could have cut some corners.”

“Excuse me for appreciating the woman’s finer assets.”

Jongin snorted. “Of course you do,” he said, pulling the keys out of his pocket to unlock the greenhouse door—which, thankfully, was now repaired and functional. He started sorting through them when Kyungsoo suddenly grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Jongin looked up, taken aback by the abruptness of it.

“Listen,” Kyungsoo said, looking dead serious. “I want to take you out this Saturday.”

His first reaction was that his heart skipped a beat, already reading into the words for a meaning he wasn’t even sure was there. “Meaning?”

“Meaning food. A movie. Something. A date.”

The blood rushed to Jongin’s face, hot and betraying. “I…I didn’t know you swung that way.”

“Is that a no?”

“No,” Jongin said quickly, and only blushed harder. “I mean. Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A pause, and then Kyungsoo smiled, his hand moving from Jongin’s wrist to curl over his fingers, soft and warm. “Okay,” he said, and Jongin’s too stupidly happy to say anything back but he thought there would be plenty of chances for that later.


End file.
